


Unspoken (and other assorted prompts)

by vulpixelates



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpixelates/pseuds/vulpixelates
Summary: All of my (not terrible) Cullavellan- and Ioren/Cullen-related Tumblr prompts, in chronological order.





	1. "If you die, I'm gonna kill you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~300 words. This fic occurs the morning after [Adamant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824979) and right before the siege on Adamant Fortress.

The preparations for the siege of Adamant were nearly complete. Cullen’s face didn’t betray his nerves as he spoke to his top officers, going over the final plans for the assault. It would be a tough fight, but the modern siege equipment was likely to give them the edge they needed to penetrate the impregnable and give the Inquisitor’s team time to sort out this business with the Wardens. 

As the officers left his company, set off to square away the last of their duties, Ioren approached, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He could smell the smoke that indicated her nervous tick of conjuring lightning to her fingertips had been acting up, but she seemed much more refreshed than she had the night before. Rested, ready to fight. Her new battlemage armor hadn’t a scratch or scuff yet. Cullen found himself hoping it would stay that way, though he knew better. The Inquisitor would fight harder than anyone today. It was her way.

She stood closer to him than was typical for her in such a public setting, but he didn’t mind. Not after last night, and not with what was ahead. “Cullen,” she said by way of a greeting, her voice quiet and intimate against the cacophony of activity in the camp. Her eyes darted around, surveying if anyone happened to be paying attention to them, and then seemingly decided she didn’t care. She placed a hand on his and brought it to her lips, placing a gentle kiss on his calloused palm. 

“Ioren,” he greeted in return. His joy at seeing her momentarily overshadowed the stoic facade he put on in front of his troops; he found himself grinning like a schoolboy. 

Her own smile grew, but only for a moment. “I just…” Her gaze dropped away from his, her expression growing serious. “I wanted to tell you to stay safe – keep the troops safe. Don’t take any risks, with their lives… or yours,” she added pointedly. 

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 

“You had better,” she said. “If you die out there, I’ll kill you. Wouldn’t want that. Messy business.”


	2. The way you said "I love you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~700 words. The timing for the cut scene where Cullen takes you to that lake he used to visit when he was a kid is a bit off (it be like a ten day trip there and back from Skyhold, while in the cut scene they kind of make it seem like a day trip), so I decided to fill it in a bit.

Their trip to Honnleath had gone even more smoothly than either of them had planned. Their horses bore no Inquisition flags or symbols, and neither did their armor. He and the Inquisitor were simply two anonymous travelers, as Ioren had wanted. This was as much of a vacation as they would get before the war ended and she wanted to make the most of it.

Of course, that included taking their time and exploring nature as they went. Ioren seemed more at peace here, in the middle of nowhere on nameless roads or no roads at all, than she had in the entire time Cullen had known her. It was like she’d finally returned home after years away. She hopped off her horse more than once to pick flowers or gather herbs, and more frequently she had them both tie up their horses to take a break from riding and appreciate a particularly pretty view.

This time, it was by a lake. Cullen had to admit that it might be one of the most picturesque views he’d ever seen, as they laid back and watched the clouds. The water was glistening in the afternoon sun, and fresh spring grass swayed in the gentle breeze and cushioned them. He’d forgotten how  _green_  the world outside of Skyhold was, out of the snowy mountains.

Ioren took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her hair was down for once, long curls free to blow in the wind. “The air smells so clear,” she murmured. “And it’s  _quiet_. So peaceful.”

“Is this where you’d run away to?” They talked about it often, mostly as a daydream, but it was always tempting. This trip had been a taste of what it might be like.

“Yes,” she breathed, wiggling closer to him. She was nestled into Cullen’s side, his arm wrapped around her. “Somewhere just like this, though maybe not in Ferelden.”

“Careful, now, ” he teased. “Nothing wrong with Ferelden. It’s quite beautiful in some places.”

“I’ll admit, it smells less like dogs than everyone claims.”

He let out a laugh at that, one that rumbled through his chest and drew out a smile from Ioren. Her little quips always surprised him; he hoped that would never stop. “Skyhold could use some dogs.”

“That, we can agree on,” Ioren said. “We should get one, one of these days. One with floppy ears. Can you imagine a little pup running around the courtyard?”

“That’s the Fereldan dream, really,” he admitted with a bashful smile. “Settling down with a dog and the woman I love.”

“The woman you love, huh?”

Cullen cursed himself silently for the slip of the tongue and the blush spreading over his face. He’d known for a while now, since that first night together, but he’d never told her, didn’t want to scare her off. They weren’t—this wasn’t— _Maker’s breath,_ how did he consistently manage to make a fool of himself in front of her? “I just meant—”

“No, no, don’t overthink it, ‘ma’vheraan,” she interrupted in a whisper, propping herself up on one elbow and leaning over him, hair falling over them like a curtain against the breeze. “I understand.”

She kissed him then, in front of that random lake in this small pocket of Ferelden – lips soft as they brushed against his, teasing before she covered them with hers in a kiss, as she had hundreds of times before. This woman kissed unlike anyone he’d ever kissed before, with abandon and as though she were expressing her adoration with every stroke of her tongue. It was intimate and terrifying, and absolutely wonderful, especially in wake of his accidental confession.

His hands found her hair, tangling in the dark curls, and for that moment, he didn’t think, even as he felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. He was present, drowning in the intoxicating smell and taste of her, all apples and sandalwood and autumn.

When she finally pulled away, she left him breathless, and they wore matching, crooked grins.

It was a relief, really—for her to know, unequivocally, that she held not only a piece of him, but all of him. All of his heart. And though she hadn’t said it back exactly with words, she’d said it with the way she’d called him her lion and with that kiss. 


	3. A kiss at dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~500 words. A bit of a contrast from previous things I've written on these two, but I wanted to show a more raw side of Ioren's time as Inquisitor and a bit of why her and Cullen understand each other. Content warning for alcohol, chronic pain, and vague mentioning of PTSD and withdrawal symptoms.

Drinking moon tea in the moonlight might have been poetic, Ioren thought, if the sharp, aching pain along her arm would have allowed her mind a moment’s peace. She’d been up for hours—had she even slept at all, or just tossed and turned? she couldn’t remember—sitting on the balcony and nursing the pain with tea spiked with whiskey. It was finally beginning to recede, little by little. By the time the sun peaked over the mountains, gods and anchor willing, maybe she would be able to finally fall asleep.

“The anchor again?”

Ioren jumped, nearly spilling her tea before she recognized the voice and set the cup down.  _Cullen_ , leaning against the doorway, a blanket with hand-stitched mabari hounds thrown around his shoulders, otherwise bare from head to toe. He wiped at his eyes, complexion paler than usual.

Cullen, of all people, understood restless nights. It had gotten better, as of late, but he still had his bad days.  _Don’t we all?_

She nodded in response, looking back towards the mountains. “There’s whiskey if you want it,” she told him, voice hoarse and shaky both from hours of silence and the pain radiating from palm to shoulder, and tilted her head towards the bottle nestled beside her, on top of the pile of blankets and pillows. 

With a pained groan, he bent to snatch it up, then took it’s place. He slid an arm behind Ioren, pulling her to him both for warmth and comfort; he was damp with sweat and dripping with anxiety. Ioren didn’t need to ask to know what from. 

A pale, glowing warmth illuminated her hand as she reached up to him and her fingertips made contact with his forehead. Though she couldn’t get rid of the withdrawal, or the dreams, she could help with the headaches now that her magic didn’t make him flinch.

Almost immediately, Cullen relaxed, letting out a soft sigh as Ioren caressed the side of his face, hand no longer glowing, and brushed the hair sticking to his damp skin out of the way. “You didn’t have to,” he murmured. 

She settled into his side. “It’s— _augh, fuck,_ ” she hissed, the aching in her arm spiked, making itself known. She clutched it to her stomach, brow furrowing as she winced. Stars shone behind her closed eyes.

In a singular, fluid motion, Cullen scooped her onto his lap, cradling her against his chest and wrapping her in the blankets. “It’s okay.” Calloused hands stroked her hair, gentle in a way that defied them, and he spoke in a voice even gentler. “ _It’s okay._ ”

Cullen held her until the dawn broke, sun rising above the mountains and spilling color into the sky, and kissed salty tears away from her cheeks until, finally, she fell into another restless slumber. And soon, he joined her, head resting on top of hers and dreaming of spring days.


	4. Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~300 words. Nothing too serious, just cute smoochin'.

“Cullen.”

“Yes?” he mumbled, eyes still glued to the paperwork on his desk.

Ioren groaned, sitting on the edge of the surface and setting aside a stack of ledgers that had been in her way. “Come  _on_ , ma’vheraan. You need to leave this office. It smells of fresh ink and stale farts.”

A  _tut_ of disapproval, but still no look. “That’s hardly true. I’ll only be another ten minutes. I need to finish this.”

“ _Cullen_ ,” she whined. “You said that ten minutes ago.”

“Well, ten minutes ago I was wrong.” His brow was furrowed with concentration and he bit his lower lip, quill scratching away at the forms in his flawless, diligent script. 

Normally, she found this expression rather endearing. However, she knew he had been shut away in this tower all day and had barely eaten, and additionally, he had not given her so much a glance since she’d come in. 

She was  _not_  having it. With a sigh, she plucked the quill from his hand and tossed it across the room, leaving a trail of ink where it bounced over the floor. 

“Ioren!” Cullen exclaimed, finally looking up at her, aghast. “I know you see fit to tease me endlessly, but I sincerely do have work that requires my—”

She interrupted him with a gentle hand on the side of his face, tracing the curve of his hairline, fingers dancing over his temple and down to his jawline, tilting his chin up. “I can think of no less than ten much more entertaining things we could do on this desk than paperwork, four of which we’ve already done.” 

And before he could begin to sputter or the blush could settle over his cheeks, she brought her lips to his – brushed them against his, tauntingly, a challenge. 

Cullen always loved a challenge. 


	5. "Is that blood?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~600 words. Just a quick slice of life, and one of my favorites.

The flames of the candles lending light to Cullen’s reading flickered as the unseen door into the room swung open, the off-set of air rushing in to stoke the flames. He looked up as he heard it shut once more, and watched as the Inquisitor herself made her way up the stairs. Each light, jovial step was marked with another of her many layers of jackets, scarves, and gloves (much more than he would have personally deemed necessary, but he was used to cold winters, unlike his beloved) being removed to be later tossed on the couch. As she reached the last step, she looked over and saw him at her desk, a wide, goofy grin spreading across her face.

“Cullen! To what do I owe such a lovely surprise?” she asked, making her way over to the desk and leaning forward against it. 

He  _tsk_ ’d at her, closing his book. “You did ask me to move my things here – two months ago, I might add.” This was far from the first night he’d spent here since.

“Oh! Right. I did, didn’t I?” she teased. “One of my better decisions, I’ll admit. You make a wonderful addition to any abode. You’re much nicer to look at than the awful rug Josie put in here.” Reaching for one of the hands he’d been resting against the desk, she took it in her own hands, cold in spite of the two layers of gloves she had been wearing.

“Oh? Is that why you keep me around?”

“There are some other reasons. Would you like a reminder?” Her voice dipped down into tantalizing registers, and when she’d finished her purring, she grazed her lower lip with her teeth. 

“How could I say ‘no’ to that?” he replied with a low chuckle, covering their joined hands with another one of his and eyeing her mouth with interest. When his gaze drifted back up towards her eyes, they followed along the lines of her vallaslin and up to— “Wait, is that blood?” There was a small, dark smear of liquid above her eyebrow.

“ _Uhhhhh_ … no?” she replied, almost hopefully.

“Ioren, my dear, that isn’t a question that you answer with another question.”

She sighed, pulling back from his hands and making her way over to the water basin on her dresser. “Sorry, I thought I’d gotten it all.”

“I—what—how did you even manage get blood on your face?” 

“It’s a long story,” she said with a shrug, using a wet cloth to clean the remaining traces of blood from her face. “I won’t bore you with the details.”

A grunt of disapproval escaped his throat. “I am the Commander of the Inquisition’s armies and in charge of the defense of Skyhold. If there’s been any sort of altercation within the walls, I should be—”

“Cullen,” she interrupted, and turned to him with a look of  _Creators please make him stop_. “It was nothing to get so worked up about! Just a, uh… incident. I handled it. I’m very capable of handling things, you know. In fact, I would say it’s one of my main job descriptors. ‘Inquisitor: Herald of Andraste, Slayer of Dragons, Handler of Things.’”

Cullen glowered at her for an agonizing moment before saying, “Did Sera try to teach you how to shoot a bow again?”

With a defeated sigh, Ioren replied, “Sera tried to teach me how to shoot a bow again.”


	6. Accidentally witnessed kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~600 words. Just... read it. No explanations needed. 
> 
> Note: This is NSFW (not explicit, but sexually charged). Also, it takes place after the events of the main game, so a brief spoiler occurs relating to the Divine. Also also, “’ma’vheraan” translates as “my lion.”

Though the Inquisitor and her Commander never made it to the ballroom, they had been dancing all evening. 

It had started before they left their quarters, when they’d been changing and Cullen’s hands wandered as he helped her into her dress, and told her how much he would enjoy helping her out of it when they returned. Then they moved on to heated stares from across the room, over glasses of wine; fleeting touches, a discreet brush of her hand over his backside while they spoke to an Antivan ambassador; his retaliation of pulling her away from a conversation with one of the Queen of Fereldan’s people to whisper filthy nothings in her ear.

It was a game, one they played often to make these stuffy political events more entertaining. The unspoken goal, to get the other to give in first.

Cullen was very good, especially in the suit he was wearing. Fortunately, Ioren was better. Much better.

It was cruel, really, but he enjoyed the game as much as she did. He enjoyed the test of his nearly impenetrable control. But she didn’t need to break it; she held the key. All it took was making sure he watching her as she unpinned her hair and set it free, the brown curls tumbling over her nearly bare shoulders as she walked away. She didn’t even have to look to know he was following her, and she’d barely made it to the hidden corner she had scouted earlier when he caught her elbow. 

“Something you need, ‘ma’vheraan?” she teased, looking up at him through her lashes. She had already known she won, but one glance at the want in his darkened eyes was satisfying truth.

“ _You_.” 

And then he was kissing her, pressing her between his body and the wall at her back, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her hip, sliding over the Orlesian silk that covered it. It was gentler than she wanted, reverent and sweet, but soon it morphed and he was coaxing her mouth open with his tongue and letting out a soft moan, low in his throat, arm circling her waist to pull her to him. His wine-stained lips tasted like the nectar of the gods, meant to draw her in and keep her there, completely enraptured in him until the end of her days.

The only force that could have drawn her away was a need to breathe in something other than him, something other than his need, and instead his lips found her jaw and then her collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses that sent shivers down her spine and spikes of heat to her core. Gasping, for air and for him, her fingers found the bulge growing at the front of his pants and grasped him, drawing another moan from deep within his throat.

“We’re in public, you know,” Cullen reminded her hoarsely, his own hands daring to venture lower as well, squeezing her bottom.

“He has a point.”

The two sprang apart, like teenagers caught necking in a wine cellar, and turned towards the unexpected voice. Each of them noticed the towering hat atop her head at the same time, and Cullen muttered something wholly unworthy of being muttered in the presence of the new Divine – even if she had certainly said worse in their meetings in the Inquisition’s War Room.

Divine Victoria, red hair peeking out from under the new addition to her wardrobe, simply laughed. “Come now, at least find a closet. There’s one right down the hall.”


End file.
